


What if - Missouri?

by koalathebear



Series: What If? [7]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Speculative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2893106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Quinn flew to Missouri after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As to how Quinn knew about Missouri, I think Maggie told him. See my take on it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2857496)..

Carrie lay on the bed in the motel room, staring up at the ceiling, her mind struggling to process what she had learned that day. A brother? Her mother had left them simply to start a new family elsewhere? She wondered how Maggie would handle the news. Had her father known about this? There were too many questions and thoughts in her head …

The phone rang. She looked at the display. "Quinn." Her already disordered thoughts started becoming even more disordered as she remembered how his mouth had felt against hers, the way he had held her face so tenderly in his hands, the way he had looked at her. 

Fuck. 

Quinn? Her best friend. Her only friend and here she was on the inevitable path to destruction – taking him down with her. She was not worthy of the high regard in which he held her. As much as he thought he knew how broken and fucked up she was, he didn't know the half of it. 

"Hi," he responded, his voice low and husky.

"Hey."

"There's a rumour you're in Missouri," he said with a humorous inflection to his voice.

"Yeah." She sighed. "I found out where my mom is."

"And drove there." There was no judgment, just a mild thread of amusement.

"It's out of the blue, I know. Um I should have called you. It's just been a whirlwind. How are you?" she finally asked, aware that she was babbling but she wasn't able to control herself.

"I'm wondering about you." 

Fuck. It had only been a day and she wasn't really capable of processing anything let alone any form of decision that involved the long-term.

"Yeah. Um, we should talk, obviously," she babbled.

"You want me to join you? I could fly out."

"Uh, no, no," she panicked, thinking that the last thing she needed was a deep and meaningful conversation with Quinn about their possible future whether together or apart. Just the thought of the million and one ways she could fuck up yet another relationship threatened to send her into a serious panic attack on the spot.

"You sure?" he asked, disappointment obvious in his voice. Jesus, did he really think they were going to sort out the clusterfuck that was her emotional state of mind in a day? She needed time. She needed to give _him_ time so that he could think things through and run for the hills – which he would do if he had any common sense. She shut out the memory of his kiss, how right it had felt to laugh with him … She refused to let herself to entertain the beguiling thought of a normal life with him ... Not yet.

"Yeah, I'm kind of in the middle of something. I have a brother, it turns out," she blurted out unintentionally. Fuck. She'd meant to tell Maggie before she told anyone else.

"What?" he asked, sounding very startled.

"Yeah. See, I - I have a lot to deal with. I can't think about anything else right now," she told him.

"Hey, look, if it's a no, just say," he told her gently.

"It's not. I - I just I've been dealing with this other stuff," she told him, feeling frustrated that he thought she was in the right state of mind to talk about the future. Couldn't he tell she was imploding emotionally?

"No problem," he said calmly but his disappointment was obvious.

"God, look at me, Quinn. I'm on a crazy road trip like my dad used to take. I'm no good for you. Or anyone else." Shit. She was babbling again. _Hang up, hang up_ her internal voice was telling her. _Hang up before he remembers how crazy you really are._

"So it is a no." His voice was flat. He wasn't asking.

"I didn't say that," she protested and then her frustration and panic grew again. Warring within her was the desperate desire to make him give her space at the same time the desire to have him not give up on her … "Don't pressure me, okay?" she told him, sounding agitated.

"Okay," he said calmly.

"Look, I got to go. Um I'll be back in a few days. We'll talk then."

"Right."

"Bye." She hung up and Quinn dropped his cell at his feet and sat in his motel room staring straight ahead, trying not to feel disappointed.

His eyes dropped to the pile of letters that Rob had given to him.

He exhaled slowly. Regardless of how the conversation with Carrie had gone, deep down he had known that come tomorrow night, he'd be on the plane with his team, heading to that fortified shithole in Aleppo, Syria to complete yet another impossible mission.

_I was pretty far down the fucking rabbit hole… It was like a drug. You know, going from one mission to the next like that._

This time it was different though. He wasn't craving the high or the adrenaline rush of going on a mission.

_My estimation, we're 20% less likely to pull this off without you._

Rob hadn't been blowing smoke up his ass. The two of them went way back and had been through some shit together. His face had been genuine when he had been appealing for Quinn to come with them. He needed Quinn with them – or at least genuinely thought he did.

Quinn's cell rang and he reached down to the floor, eyes widening to see that it was Carrie phoning.

"Carrie?" he asked.

"Quinn." Her voice sounded subdued and a little muffled. 

"You ok?" he asked her in concern.

"Yeah … "

"You sure you don't want me to fly to Missouri?" he asked her.

"Yeah … about that … Missouri's actually really great this time of year, I think you'd love it," she told him. Oh God, that was so lame. All she knew was that suddenly, despite everything, all she wanted was to see Quinn's calm, steady face before her. 

Quinn laughed despite himself at the obliqueness of her request.

"I'll see you soon. Text me your location."


	2. Letters and Hickeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a prompt from rurikids: "a hickey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea of the composition of Quinn's team so I've continued to use the names I made up for my [Seasonal Fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2849918) series.

When she heard the knock on the door of the motel room Carrie peered out the window and saw Quinn standing outside, waiting. He nodded at her through the glass.

"Hey," she greeted him as she opened the door.

"Hey yourself," he replied. He looked deceptively calm and relaxed, dressed in dark jeans and a dark-long sleeved t-shirt.

"Come in," she invited him. "I just got back myself from seeing my mother again … "

He nodded. "And how did that – " Carrie almost threw herself into his arms and buried her face in his chest wordlessly before he could finish asking his question. "Like that, I see," he remarked gently, his arms tightening around her as his hands moved down her back in soothing strokes. He swallowed hard, feeling his own tension draining out of him as he held her … maybe there was a way through this …

"I have got the biggest motherfucker of a headache," she told him with feeling, pulling away from him and collapsing on top of the bed, closing her eyes and putting her arm over her eyes as well for good measure.

Quinn put his bag down near the door, kicked off his boots and stretched out beside her on the bed cautiously.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her carefully.

"Not a lot to say really," she told him wryly. "It is so fucked up," she told him. "You know – me and Maggie grew up thinking that she walked out on us because my dad was bipolar and she didn't want to live with someone with a mental illness. Turned out she was the one fucking around … left because she got pregnant with my half-brother. The fuck?" she demanded, opening her eyes and staring at him in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do with all _that?_ "

"That's a hell of lot to find out about in one afternoon," he remarked and she nodded. 

"No kidding." She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes again as he reached over to run a fingertip down her cheek. His eyes were shuttered and dark as he studied her face. 

Suddenly she opened her eyes and stared up at him curiously. "What about you, Quinn. Are you ok?" She frowned. "I hope you're not pissed but I'm not going to be able to make up my mind that quickly - about getting out I mean… or about us to be honest," she told him with a crooked smile.

"Yeah, I get that," he said briefly. "It's ok … I just wanted to see you."

She frowned. "Don’t fuck with me, there's something else," she told him, staring at him narrowly. 

"Shit Carrie," he muttered. "How do you do that?" he demanded, rolling away from her and collapsing back onto the bed, staring up at the dirty, cracked ceiling of the motel room. It reminded him of Islamabad – the way she had stared at his impassive face and just known that he knew where Haqqani was despite the fact that he was sure that nothing in his eyes and face had given him away. "It really is time to give this all the fuck away if I'm getting that sloppy," he muttered.

"Maybe I can just read you like a book, Quinn," she pointed out.

"No … or maybe it's a just a recent thing because you've been fucking illiterate until recently," he muttered.

"Charming," she replied, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. "Now out with it – that's an order goddamnit."

"Now who's being charming?" he demanded. He closed his eyes. "Group's told me that they have a location on three high-value IS targets in a fortified location in Aleppo - and a very narrow window before they fuck off again."

Carrie stared at him, brows drawn together in a very troubled frown.

"And?"

"They're flying out tomorrow night."

"I thought you wanted out, Quinn."

"I do."

"Well going to Syria is a weird way of doing that," she told him.

"Group orders are there it's all hands, no exceptions – it's an open-ended mission, too …"

"Jesus Quinn," she muttered. "The regime is raining hell on Aleppo right now and you're going to have to find your own way out? Just last night – "

"I know," he said flatly, closing his eyes again and trying to settle his thoughts.

"Well are you going?" she asked him finally. Her hand went out for a moment to touch his face and then withdrew before she made contact. 

"I think you know," he told her, without opening his eyes. She exhaled and reached out her hand again. "Keep going. I don't bite – much," he said, his mouth curving into a provocative smile and she brushed the hair from his forehead and allowed herself to press a kiss to his warm, smooth skin.

"Isn't this what keeps happening, Quinn? One last mission? One last time?" She trailed a kiss down his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw. Her hair fell around both of their faces but he kept his eyes closed and his hands at his side even though it took all of his self-control not to grab her and pull her against his body.

"Would it change things if I told you that one of the assets happens to be Haqqani?" he asked her huskily and he opened his eyes and stared at her. His pupils were dilated and dark, rimmed by the lightness of his grey irises and she could see her own reflection.

"Fuck," she muttered.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'd said no but Dar Adal showed up last night to see if he could convince me otherwise."

"Your evil fucking fairy godmother," Carrie shuddered in disgust.

"You have no idea," he told her darkly. "So you see why I have to go." He reached up and slid his arms around her, pulling her closer and she nibbled at mouth, pulling back when he would have deepened the kiss, slid her mouth down his throat, nipping sharply before sucking on the skin.

"Makes me even more nervous," she told him. "You're more likely to be reckless if it's Haqqani." Quinn pulled the cardigan off her shoulders and slid his hand beneath her loose t-shirt to unsnap her bra.

"Jesus Quinn, what makes you think I'm going to fuck you when you're about to abandon me and go to Syria," she demanded, even as her hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt and she was pulling his jeans and boxer shorts off him impatiently.

"Because I'm very likeable?" he questioned and swore beneath his breath as her small hand closed around him. He helped her kick her jeans off and pulled her against him, his mouth hard and hungry on hers.

"How do I know you're going to even make it back, Quinn?' she demanded seriously, staring down at his face as she moved up to straddle him. He rested his hands on her hips for a moment, his knuckles moving over the smoothness of her bare skin.

His hands guided her as she lifted herself and sank down onto him slowly and deliberately. He pulled her down to him even as he thrust hard against her.

"Because I'm very reliable?" 

*

He opened the two doors and strode into the hanger carrying his duffle bag. His body still thrummed from pleasure and he could still taste Carrie on his mouth, hear her voice muttering his name as she came.

"All right, put those with the M4s. Next to the generator, over there."

"Who's the new guy?" Quinn demanded as he approached his team.

Rob looked up, relief flickering in his eyes. "Dale," he called over his shoulder and a younger man stepped up. He was dark-haired, cocky and assured. 

Quinn looked at him, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. New guys all had the same look about them. "I'm going. You're not," he announced impassively.

"What?" Dale demanded incredulously.

"Take these."

"This is fucked up," Dale complained to Rob who said nothing.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed.

"Take 'em," Rob ordered the new guy and Quinn walked past him to the table to start prepping his weapons in a well-rehearsed routine that he could have done with his eyes closed.

"Rob said you were bailing on us," Nolan remarked as he walked past carrying a box of ammunition.

"I’m here aren't I?" Quinn demanded tersely.

"He couldn't keep himself away," Liam remarked, coming behind him and punching him in the shoulder - hard.

"Hey boys – what's this?" Liam demanded, pushing the collar of Quinn's hooded anorak to the side to stare narrowly at his throat. "Our boy's got a hickey – and a fresh one." There were obscene comments and laughter as they stared at the livid red mark on Quinn's throat. There was a matching one on Carrie.

"What are you, like fifteen years old?" he had demanded when she had marked him.

"Just giving you a souvenir," she had said with a soft laugh, body soft and pliant as she explored him.

"Believe me, Carrie – there is no way I could ever forget you … don't think I haven't tried," he had muttered as he had rolled her beneath him and put his own marks on her.

"That why were late, douche-bag?" Rob asked him, throwing him a burner phone. "Making out with your girlfriend?"

"None of your fucking business," Quinn retorted and Rob grinned. Unlike the rest of the boys, Quinn had never been one to boast about his conquests. 

"Your letter to her?" he asked curiously. Quinn had never written a letter in past missions and Rob knew the names of the girlfriends, wives and boyfriends of his team by heart.

"Again, none of your business," Quinn replied, but he was smiling.

"Okay assholes, - move out. Next stop – some shithole in Syria," Rob called out to the men. "Please board in an orderly fashion through the aft doors. We hope you have a pleasant flight," he added mockingly.

"Just like old times," Liam muttered to Quinn as they walked out of the hanger towards the aircraft. 

"Speaking of which – bought a bottle of Tullamore Dew for a wake I went to earlier this week," he told the tall, lanky Irishman.

"I've taught you well, Quinny Boy. Just remember though, when it's my turn – I expect you to pour it over me and set me on fucking fire."

"That part I can manage, the Viking longboat, not so much," he retorted.

Sitting in the aircraft, he allowed his hand to slide into the pocket of his anorak to touch the folded envelope with his name on it.

Carrie had woken up earlier that morning in bed alone to see him sitting at the motel room desk, writing, his face shuttered and intent. When she had sat up, he had finished writing, folded the note and put it inside an envelope which he put into his bag.

"I don't ever want to read that fucking letter," she had told him stonily.

When he had come out of the shower, she had held up her own note and an envelope with 'Quinn' written on it. He had stared at her quizzically, noting her quivering jaw and her eyes that were shining with unshed tears.

"This is my letter," she told him and took the empty envelope and tucked it into his pocket with trembling fingers. "To you." He had stared at her, his eyes searching her distraught face. "You get to read the actual letter when you come back safe," she told him,folded the paper and tucked the letter into her purse. 

Quinn exhaled slowly, leaned back, closed his eyes and touched the empty envelope with his fingertips and dreamed of home.


End file.
